


Some Loves are Meant for Life

by MizDirected



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M, Forever sort of love, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-03-14 19:30:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3422915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizDirected/pseuds/MizDirected
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ten years after the Reaper War, Primarch Vakarian's first wife comes to his wedding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Some Loves are Meant for Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His first wife.
> 
> Eyes returning to stare into their own reflections, he wondered what she would think of him after more than a decade. What would she think of his new life? Of him taking another bond-mate?

**Torin:**  A turian male of the age of majority. Equivalent of man.

 **Coillas (Coillasi - plural)**  - The chains that hold turian bonding robes closed. After the ceremonies, they are wrapped and fastened around the wrists of both bond-mates.

 **Disignatus**  - Minister or official who conducts traditional ceremonies.

* * *

Garrus stared into the mirror and reached up to smooth the front panel of his suit. Leaning toward the reflective surface, he frowned as he stared into his own eyes, no longer recognizing the  _torin_  who stared back. His talons touched the gold embroidery on the panels of his family's bonding robe, tracing the tiny scenes that represented how his grandparents and parents had come together.

A tiny reaper had been stitched just below the sleek arc of the ship that had been his home so long before. How he and his first wife had come together.

His first wife.

A slow, ancient dagger pressed between his plates, burying itself between ribs to pierce his heart.

His first wife.

Eyes returning to stare into their own reflections, he wondered what she would think of him after more than a decade. What would she think of his new life? Of him taking another bond-mate?

It was his duty. A primarch needed to project a certain image. Of course, he'd never have asked Elina had he not loved her. Clever, kind, fierce, gentle … his mandibles fluttered in a smile. Someone so remarkable deserved nothing less than a mate who adored her. Who would dedicate himself to her happiness and that of their children.

The dagger eased back, as had the pain as the cycles rolled past. Pieces of him fell back into place, or he rebuilt them using new materials. Bit by bit, Garrus Vakarian pulled through the Reaper War as surely as his people and his planet had. His body eased out of bed every morning a little less wooden, smiles broke across his face less like shattered glass, and laughter rumbled from his throat without feeling like a garrotte.

Due in large part to Elina over the past three cycles. She'd cut away the ruins, the chains dragging from him with their impossible weight. Only one piece remained out of place. Talons returned to caress the embroidery, following the lines of the little ship. Her ship.

Behind him, the air shifted, a familiar spectre forming from the ether. She'd appeared to him a thousand times over the cycles. Usually not quite so vivid or solid. He turned, fully expecting her to vanish. His heart already slowed, already pressed against his keel in the sick, aching way that drew his hand up to his chest as though, if he didn't hold the fickle organ in, it would punch straight through.

But there she stood. Still. Hair a flaming red riot of curls, eyes as green as the pines of her homeworld and as piercing as death, lips curved in a smile. Spirits that smile. It never failed to make everything all right, even when she'd turned to flash it in the moment before Harbinger … . He closed his eyes and shook his head. Not the time. It was most definitely not the time.

When he opened his eyes again, she remained there, standing before him, and instead of vanishing into vapour as she had every other time, she stepped forward, her hands reaching up to press against either side of his keel. Those tiny, nimble hands with their impossible digits smoothed the panels of his bonding robe. She stared at his chest for a moment, then looked up and gave him a starched nod of approval before taking his hands in hers.

That night ... spirits how they'd trembled in his. He grinned, warmth spreading through him. Who was he kidding? His trembled just as hard. Nervous, the both of them jumped every time an explosion went off or a singularity detonated on the battlefield.

But then he'd looked into her eyes, and she'd smiled, her lips trembling as hard as her hands. Even though they'd been together for years by that point, the woman before him forming the air that he breathed, the love he felt in that moment … for that moment he'd been sure it would kill him.

Anderson had cleared his throat, earning a laugh and nod from each of them. Ready? Damn straight they were ready.

Garrus made his promises, thinking as he did how inadequately each of them described the depth of what he felt. How could words frame his wishes for their future, or capture the desperate fear that ran like an undertow beneath the waves?

But then her lips pressed against his mouth, soft and wet, hungry and loving. He would never kiss Elina. Turians really didn't have the mouths for it. Still, Shepard always said that she couldn't imagine kissing another mouth for the rest of her days. She tasted of peppermint and the clear high streams in Palaven's mountains, mineral and … huge clear skies … and connection.

And then he'd wrapped his  _coillasi_  around her wrists, and she'd wrapped hers around his.

 _Torin and wife._   _Bond-mates._  He'd held her for long minutes, the world around them exploding, his gut turning to water as every fear that whispered through his head and every nightmare that woke him screaming at night took up position along with the squad.

The spectre's thumbs brushed over the chains of shell still wrapped around his wrists. Carved already linked, the chains couldn't be broken, not meant to be removed … ever. One finger pressed under his chin, lifting his eyes to meet hers, and she smiled. She knew. He nodded. Of course she did.

Elina had never even suggested that he remove them. A sign of how extraordinary she was, he supposed.

Time to go. That night the words rolled like thunder. The thunder that had stolen her from his reaching arms. She promised that they'd go to the end together.

The spectre wrapped both arms around one of his, tugging him toward the door.

Time to go again. Time for her to leave him all over again. He stopped, pulling back against her grip. No. How could she want him to promise himself to another mate? How could he do it? Duty or not? Love … did he love Elina?

Those impossible lips smiled again, and a cool hand reached up to press against his cheek, just resting there until his old friends, sorrow and anger, faded.

Yes, he loved Elina. He wanted to spend what time remained to him taking care of her, being taken care of. He didn't want to spend the rest of his life in mourning.

His first love nodded and led him through the door and down the long hall to where his family and friends … most of them her family and friends … waited. She led him past their grinning faces, pointing to where Joker and Tali stood, hands clasped … where Kaidan and his wife stood surrounded by their children. The ghost looked up from them to stare into his eyes as if trying to burn her wishes onto his soul.

She wanted that for him. Of course she did. He'd never known anyone less selfish … except for that last moment where she'd made him leave her because she wanted him to live. Maybe she'd always intended it to end that way or maybe she'd decided right then, but either way, she'd wrapped her promise of a life together around his wrist and then left him to go on alone.

Stopping before the  _designatus_ , she placed his hand in Elina's. After staring at that connection for a moment, she looked up. Those remarkable eyes watched his wife to be as his heart roared inside his chest ... ten impossible beats ... before turning to him. The love he saw there remained undimmed by the turning of more than ten cycles, and he knew as certainly as those heartbeats that it would remain undimmed until he drew his last breath. On that day, when he stepped through the veil, she'd be waiting, drinks in hand, soft, hungry kisses eager to press against his mouth.

And he could wait. He nodded as he met those pine-green eyes. He could wait, do his duty to his people … love his wife and whatever children she blessed him with.

Shepard smiled and leaned up to press a kiss to his mandible, her lips just a sigh of breeze.

"Live well," she whispered. "I'll be waiting."

She stepped back, her fingers drifting up to caress Elina's cheek, then she was gone.

He stared at the spot where she'd been the moment before. Elina squeezed his talons, a silent question, then her thumb drifted over the  _coillasi_  wrapped around his wrist. Turning to meet his bond-mate's questioning gaze, Garrus smiled.

 _"Do you, Garrus Vakarian, promise … ?"_ Anderson's voice echoed forward through the cycles.

 _Always. Always._  He tucked the promise deep inside his heart and sealed it away. Shards of gleaming crystal as unbreakable as the chains on his wrists, sealed away until he joined her once more. More than once, he'd wondered how it worked in that universe after death, when one's love died, and another came along. Would he have to split himself in two? Would he be with both? He almost chuckled at the thought of what Shepard would have to say about that.

In that moment, as Elina's mandibles lowered and fluttered in a gentle smile, the answer settled warm and soft within him, glowing like the sun. He sent a silent thank you after the spectre of his first wife.

Some loves were meant forever.

And some were meant for life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As much writing as I do to avoid having Garrus lose Shepard again, I love the idea that she loved him so purely and so unselfishly that she'd want him to live his years as fully as possible. She'd want him to love and to experience the joy of children... and have a full life before they came together again. 
> 
> This morning at 5AM, Garrus woke me up and insisted that I write this story. So I did. 3 hours of ugly sobbing later ... here we are. Oh, and Shepard has demanded a second, companion chapter. So that will happen. :D


	2. Some Loves are Meant Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their time would come, and it would be eternal. She knew it with certainty, for those crystal shards he'd sealed away in his heart remained as precious to him over the years as they did to her. 
> 
> Shepard is there as one adventure ends and another begins.

_**Love is patient.** _

Shepard lingered. As much as the living assumed that the dead moved on to some parallel life; that they danced on clouds, played harps, or joined a choir, mostly they just found somewhere that made them happy and lingered. He made her happy, so she remained by his side through the years.

Although never perfect, he spent his years well—loved hard, laughed and cried, felt bliss and terror, joy and grief. He watched three generations take their first breaths, grow, discover, and go out into the galaxy he helped save for them. He rebuilt his world and the galaxy. The most beloved primarch in modern history.

God, how her heart sang to watch him out there … that hothead C-Sec officer transformed into someone so remarkable her soul ached to see it. People used the word awe all the time, devaluing its worth, but awe is what she felt when he stepped before the Hierarchs and swore his oath of service. Those moments, standing on his left while Elina stood on his right, were among the only ones during which she truly wished for life. What she wouldn't have given for him to feel her squeeze his hand as the Seat stood in ovation, or the Galactic Senate awarded him for his service over the decades.

_**Love is kind.** _

She saw them meet, liked Elina instantly, knowing that the  _tarin_  wouldn't take any of his crap. The occasional whispered nudge may have breezed past his aural canal over the years. Strange how women could sometimes just look and know that two people belonged together. So she nudged, and she wondered if anyone had watched her having the "do things right instead of easy" argument with Garrus in the dim belly of the first  _Normandy_  and thought … 'Those two need one another'. She hoped so.

After the day of his wedding, the day she found him staring into his reflection, clinging to the past as he prepared to move on, she never again interfered in his life. She'd never interfered before, either, content to watch. Sometimes he'd catch a glimpse of her, but she always vanished back into the ether, leaving him to mourn and move on. That day … well, that day, she had meant only to watch him take that big step back into life and happiness. But then, when love and family and hope stood so close, waiting for him to reach out and take it, he'd almost turned away … for her. She couldn't allow that. Not when she loved him as fiercely as she did.

In one of her father's sermons, he'd quoted 1 Corinthians 13:4-8. She'd absorbed those words, seeing the way he and her mother watched one another as he spoke. That connection … the living, breathing organism that formed husband and wife … solidified in her heart that day, a goal to aspire to fulfilling the best she could. In death, her best meant letting him fill his life with peace and love.

_**It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.** _

It did not mean letting go, but neither did it mean coveting him.

Approaching the bed, her time spent watching drawing to a close, she smiled as she stepped amidst his family, touching their heads gently, loving them all as her own. They grew up under her loving, watchful eye and what protection she could offer. She caressed them back to sleep when they woke with nightmares, kissed wounds better, and held them as broken hearts healed. Most of them saw her when they were young, an invisible playmate to while away quiet rainy hours, or with whom they set out on grand, imaginary adventures. A few still seemed to know when she stood close by, and a few more spoke to her even when they couldn't see her.

Odd how they embraced her despite never having known her.

Elina felt her presence as well. At first, she'd worried that the tarin would resent it, or find it wearisome. Instead, his mate spent time alone most nights, sitting in the garden, staring up into the stars, and speaking to her as if they were best friends or sisters.

 _His_  wife.  _His_  children. That formed the crux of it … her love for them all … the way she saw them. They were  _his_ , so they were hers.

And so she slipped through the twilight of their lives, content to be the sigh of encouragement or comfort that whispered on the breeze.

_**It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.** _

She never interfered in the matters of their marriage, vanishing … sometimes for years at a time … when things got hard, when he sought her out more. She complicated things in his heart during those times. It would have been so easy to show herself, to lay her hand against his face, and allow him to pour himself back into her. Easy, but cruel and selfish.

In the end, she honoured and loved them both too much to step between them, and so she vanished, moving amidst her friends or exploring. If she bent over him as he slept now and again, eyes closed, listening to his breath, basking in the comfort of it … well … she might be dead, but she remained only human.

Sometimes, during the brightest moments, when his family and his life filled him to the brim with joy, she needed to step away as well. As much as she loved them all, as much as she rejoiced in them, sometimes the ache became too sharp. The worst time had been when his children were born. She remained until they took their first breath, ensured they all had six fingers, four toes, and two spurs, kissed them on their brow, and then left.

It had been her dream once. Their dream. The night before London, she'd promised that if they both survived, she'd retire to raise a family … to set aside death in favour of celebrating life. That he found that dream with another slashed wounds of longing deep into her spectral heart. And sometimes she needed a little space and time for the yearning to heal. Heal it did and she returned, never able to stay away for long. He formed one side of her, that side calling her home always, from wherever she wandered.

 _**Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth** _ _._

When Elina finally did step through the veil, she'd been waiting to greet her husband's second wife with a warm embrace and the promise that Garrus would never be alone. Content with that oath, Elina had cast one last glance back at the torin hunched over her body, rumbling keens breaking from his throat, and then departed to join one of the greater spirits. Most turians did, when they passed. They didn't linger near the living, but joined with the great spirits of whatever body they'd served in life. It was a noble fate.

She'd stayed with him then, never more than an arm's length away, touching him, always touching him. When he slept, she lay at his side, gossamer fingers stroking his fringe as she whispered words of love and comfort.

_**It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.** _

Their time would come, and it would be eternal. She knew it with certainty, for those crystal shards he'd sealed away in his heart remained as precious to him over the years as they did to her. He'd always mourned her. She wavered a little on that point. Part of her wished she could pluck out the pain. Another part feared that he'd forget her if she did. They'd known one another a hair less than five years, and loved one another for just about two.

She been dead for twelve decades. More than a hundred years, and still she found him staring into space, muttering about how he wished she'd been with him when this or that happened. Sometimes he wept, and others he called out for her in his sleep. Their bond had been forged in fire, tempered in the frantic passion of pulling one another from the jaws of death each day and falling into the other's loving arms at night. So short a time for a love to have held them both so long.

She sat next to him on the bed and laid her hand over his. Not time yet. Soon, but he still had farewells to say. One of his daughters sat at his head, just holding his talons in hers. The daughter … Nirala … was three times the age her father was when he charged through dark and horrible London streets. He'd been a newlywed as they began that battle. A widower by the end.

"If it's time, pari," Nirala whispered, "you can go to her." She bent to rest her brow against his. "You've missed her for so very long, so don't stay for us. We will love you and remember you always, but we'll be all right."

His son, Terrus, sat just behind his sister. "You loved and raised us well." Terrus's mandibles spread in a trembling smile. "Too well for us to ask you to stay when there is someone out there waiting … when happiness is out there waiting."

"I love you," he whispered in reply, his voice so very weary. "You've been my joy."

She wiped her cheeks and reached out to touch those of his children, and for a moment, she swore they saw or felt her.  Then the moment passed.

_**Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away.** _

"I knew you'd be here soon," he said, his eyes turning to lock onto her. His children ceased their words of comfort and bent to embrace him, gentle keens rolling from their throats. Some of the light in their world had faded and would never return.

"I never left." She smiled, a wide grin that made her cheeks ache with joy, and clutched his hand in both of hers. "How could I? There's no Shepard without Vakarian."  She reached up to caress his face, gentle fingers following contours so well known that they felt like home even after more than a century.

"Elina?" he asked, sitting up, his spirit strengthening as his body failed. "Do you know where she is?"

She stroked his neck, a comforting nod answering his question. "She's fine. I was there with her in the end, and walked at her side as she passed on, joining her great spirit." Standing, she made room for him to rise from his bed, to test the return of youth and vitality.

When he stood, he held his arms out to her, gathering her in against him. She fit as easily as if they'd last embraced the night before. "You were always there," he whispered, nuzzling her ear.

She nodded and clung to him, the years … the century … suddenly heavy and long between them. "I left now and again to check on the others, and to give you space, but yes. You were my perfect, happy place. How could I be anywhere else?"

Pulling away from her, he held her at arm's length, his expression one of growing joy. "I was so angry with you when you sent me away. So many times I wished that I had died with you up there. I believed I was meant to die at your side. How could Vakarian survive without Shepard?" Before she could speak, he pressed the pad of a talon against her lips. "But I understand. Thank you." He leaned down and kissed her, mouth plates brushing her lips, chastely at first, but then with a passion that built until it swept them both into its current. "Thank you for my life, Shepard," he whispered against her lips.

In reply, she kissed him for a few more seconds before turning away from the family embracing the shell that no longer contained her love. "Come on, big guy." She smiled as he pulled his hand from hers, returning to nuzzle his babies and grandbabies. "We'll keep an eye on them," she promised.

When he returned to her side, slipping his talons into her hand and squeezing her fingers, he stared into her eyes. "What's out there?" he asked. "Someplace small and cozy where we can hole up and make love for weeks on end?" A chuckle rolled through both larynges, rough and a little raw with passion. "We never did get our honeymoon. I was looking forward to that human tradition."

"Everything awaits us. A honeymoon that never has to end. Adventures and horizons that never grow nearer no matter how far we travel." She grinned. "And we have an eternity to discover it, my love."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it took me long enough, but here we have the other side of this coin. Shepard insisted on it being shown. :) And now it is. :D
> 
> Bold sections are from the Bible. 1 Corinthians 13:4-8


End file.
